


decathlon detectives

by doofusface



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Best Friends, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Gen, High School, Humor, Investigations, No Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Not Canon Compliant, Photographs, Slice of Life, Team as Family, the secret b-plot we all know is happening
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 18:23:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18596893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doofusface/pseuds/doofusface
Summary: “Volume,” Cindy stage whispers, gesturing to the door. “We don’t even have permission tobehere.Idon’t wanna explain to Harrington why we’re hanging out in the old dark room and have ancient, highly flammable overhead spotlights hanging like it’s some noir film—doyou?”“You could just say we’re starting a cult,” Charles offers, cleaning his glasses.--Midtown Science and Tech's Academic Decathlon team is known for two things: roasting each other, and figuring out if their teammates are dating.





	1. 1: intervention planning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wryencounter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wryencounter/gifts).



> most of this fic is done but figured id split it into bits bc! it just! keeps! GETTING LONGER!!!
> 
> as of today, this and the NYE fic will be updated weekly :) or less, if I finish the missing pieces earlier/forget the date :x
> 
> enjoy <3

“Okay, we’re gonna have to talk about this,” Cindy says, laying out their phones on the center of the table. “I think we can all agree that this is _all_ levels of stupid.”

“Yup,” Sally says, chin up and resting on her hand. “Did you hear about Saturday?”

“That is…right… _here_ ,” Abe says, tapping his phone. The screen lights up again, having just faded.

Charles tilts his head, twisting to stand over the phone. “Where from?”

“Kips Bay AMC,” Ned sighs, rubbing his face with both hands. “You know? Where—”

“Where literally _no one_ goes, yeah—my cousin watches opening day movies there,” Sally says, eyes widening in an annoyed stare at the phone.

“I don’t see it,” Flash says, rolling his eyes. “So they’re at the movies. So?”

Ned raises his hand as Cindy adds, “Weren’t with Ned.”

“MJ’s way above Parker’s paygrade,” Flash snorts.

Sally starts: “I’m personally glad you stopped being a—”

“ _Language_ ,” Charles facilitates.

“—I was going to say, ‘ _intellectual and social delinquent_ ’. Anyway. I’m glad you’re not that bad anymore—” Sally continues.

“ _Hey_ ,” Flash frowns, straightening his chin.

“Flash, let Sal finish,” Cindy says, rubbing her temples.

Flash nods, sighing.

“As I was saying,” Sally says, throwing him an evil eye, “you’re not that bad anymore. But you really need to get over your whole downgrading of Peter’s, like, general  _not_ -uselessness.”

The rest of the table nod along, heavy on the judging stares.

“ _Fine_ ,” Flash huffs, crossing his arms. “But only because if you guys are right, Cap shouldn’t be with anyone second-rate.”

“It’s so weird that you care,” Ned blanks, squinting.

“It’s weirder that _you_ can sound like either of them,” Abe quips.

“He right,” Charles points.

Ned shrugs. “I’m like their child. What’s Flash’s excuse?”

“MJ and I have an understanding,” Flash says, in his High Society voice.

“We were _all_ there, Thompson—I don’t think we need a reminder of modern D-Day,” Sally says pointedly, tapping on the phones again. “So. Saturday?”

“Movies, no Ned, mostly empty theater—got it,” Flash says lazily, counting off with his fingers. “So. Your point?”

“Witnesses report handholding,” Abe says, tapping on the other phones. More photos of the same place, with the same people, but in differing angles. “And, we have evidence.”

“How did you even _get_ these?” Ned asks, face scrunched.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Cindy says flatly, and that’s that.

Abe gestures for them to all come closer as he zooms in on a photo on Charles’ phone. “Hands? Together. Eyes? Hearts.” He turns to Flash. “Still a skeptic?”

Flash clicks his tongue. _Huff_. “Well…fine. Can’t argue with that—it’s HD.”

“I really think whoever took this needs to never take these again,” Ned says, a hand raised. “Like, for privacy.”

“We’ve cut ties,” Cindy says solemnly.

“Cindy, that’s genuinely disturbing,” Sally says, frowning deeply.

“I think receiving weird-ass PI-style photographs brought us _well_ past disturbing.”

“She right,” Charles nods. He opens a bag of Doritos, offering it to everyone.

“No thanks,” Ned says, then: “So what’s the plan?”

“‘s all on you, Leeds,” Sally says, stretching back. “You’re the closest.”

“You’ve gotta know _something_ ,” Charles says, quirking a brow. He tilts the bag of chips to Cindy and Flash and they take handfuls of the snack. “Napkins over there—and, like, there’s no way they’re gonna tell the rest of _us_ anything.”

“Actually,” Cindy coughs, “MJ _did_ mention something about Peter looking particularly, ah, ‘ _well-put_ ’ is what she said, I believe— _well-put_ , when we were at the library doing prep last week.”

Ned giggles. “Oh, yeah—she’s screwed.” His smile switches to a smirk, and he hunches a little, mob boss style. “What d’ya wanna know?”

Abe grins, jaw dropped.

Cindy whistles a little.

Sally turns to Charles, and they high-five.

Flash looks around at everyone, the feigned nonchalance dissipating from his face. “Everything?”

“Oh, he’s gonna be the worst outta all of us,” Charles snorts. He hands Flash the entire Doritos bag.

Flash quirks a brow.

“For the pit you’re about to find yourself in,” Charles nods.

Flash takes it, keeping quiet as Ned clears his throat.

“Alright,” Ned starts, cracking his neck, “only the evidence, and vague on details, because they’re still my BFFs.”

“Understandable,” Abe says, waving for him to continue.

Ned stands and starts opening different apps on their phones, scrolling through each to create a digital evidence board. He points at Flash’s phone. “Okay. So. Where it all _really_ started, in my _humble_ opinion—the Europe trip…”


	2. intel gathering

“What do you think they’re up to over there?” Charles asks in a hushed whisper, huddling by Cindy and Abe at their cafeteria table.

They watch as MJ says something quickly without lowering her book or making eye contact with either Peter or Ned. Peter responds with an eye roll, but he’s laughing a little and smiling like he’s trying to hide it. Ned, ever the representation of, like, everyone, stares at the ceiling like he’s asking to get hit by lightning.

“MJ either made a nice comeback, _or_ it was a completely normal, factual statement and Peter just thinks she’s really smart,” Abe says, rubbing his chin.

Peter pauses then, face scrunching up. He swivels in his seat, catching the three of them like the guilty party that they are.

Cindy smiles and waves immediately, and the boys follow.

Peter slowly, _slowly_ raises a hand and waves back, but his face is mostly neutral, save for the heavy squinting.

“Think he heard us?” Cindy asks through a tight smile.

“Impossible,” Charles laughs, making a funny face at Peter.

Abe nudges them both, gives one last Smile And Wave™️, and turns back to his food. “That was awkward. Is he still looking?”

Charles makes to turn, but Abe nudges him by the shoulder again, and he stops. Abe nods to Cindy.

Cindy leans on the table, pulls out her phone, and opens her camera. She switches to a front view, smiling as she adjusts to take a low-view selfie.

Peter’s still looking.

“That’s really freakin’ weird,” Charles whispers.

Cindy nods, then:

They watch as a crumpled napkin hits Peter in the face. He sputters, attention snapping away.

Cindy pockets her phone, the three of them not-so-stealthily looking over directly.

Ned snickers by MJ, who’s got a smug smile and a casual lean. Peter frowns at her.

The three conspirators share looks between themselves, watching as Peter says something too far for them to hear, MJ tilt her head in confusion, and Ned almost fall back in his seat.

Abe’s phone buzzes, and they all duck.

 _Gulp_. “MJ,” Abe grimaces. He holds the phone up:

_what the hell are you guys doing?_

Cindy peeks over again, giving another _really_ awkward wave, opens her mouth to say something, stops, then raises her hands and makes a heart with her fingers, mouthing, _Love you guys!_

_Buzz._

“Ned?” Charles says, reading the notification on Abe’s phone.

_QUIT WHILE YOU’RE AHEAD_

“Good advice,” Abe says with a shrug.

“Up we go,” Charles says, standing and beginning the trek to the chem lab.

Cindy and Abe follow suit silently, heads ducked as they _completely ignore_ MJ and Peter watching them with raised brows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1/2 for today cuz this is MEGA SHORT


	3. reinforcements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/2 ;)

Charles predicts correctly, as Flash so proves the next time they have an intervention meeting.

“They’ve been making goo-goo eyes _all_ through calc,” Flash says quickly, a little louder than usual.

Which? Loud.

“The walls aren’t soundproof,” Ned says, _shush_ ing him. “Be normal.”

“What? And be a loser like you? I don—”

“Flash, we voted not to let Abe bring in the bell, but you’re making it _really_ tempting to have an amendment to our rules,” Cindy groans, facepalming.

“Be more annoying—I miss my bell,” Abe grins, nudging him with his elbow.

“ _Fine_ ,” Flash whines, lowering in volume. “As I was saying: they were all lowkey lovey-dovey while Mr. Baxter was explaining why calc would be useful for the rest of our ‘young li—’”

A _thud_ as Charles’ head makes contact with his notebook on the desk. He raises both hands, moving them in a _Hurry This Story Up_ motion. “The _point_ , dude.”

“That _was_ the point,” Flash balks, hands flaring out.

“That could’ve gone… _so_ much quicker,” Sally deadpans, scrolling through an unseen app on her phone.

Flash huffs, sitting back in faux-relaxation. “Well? What do _you_ guys have?”

“Pretty sure they held hands after gym,” Charles says nonchalantly, making his pencil look rubbery.

All attention snaps to him, and the table lamp jangles with the movement.

“Come again?” Cindy asks, brow quirked and eyes widening.

“They held hands after gym.”

“At. At _school_?”

Charles rolls his eyes. “Do you really think MJ would be caught at a non-mandatory gym, like, ever?”

Cindy gapes, sitting back in her chair. She turns to Ned, ponytail whipping behind her. “How did you miss this?” she asks, an accusing finger pointed his way. “Unless, you _haven’t_ been telling us—”

Ned throws his hands up in defense, scrambling out a high-pitched, “I was out sick yesterday! I didn’t know about this!”

“Order,” Abe says, flat palm semi-loudly acting as a gavel on the plastic table. “Order, order!”

“Up?” Charles says.

Sally _ugh_ s.

“Sorry.”

Sally waves him off, her universal sign for _You’re Forgiven Because I Give Up_.

“That’s a public stunt,” Cindy says, chin covered by steepled fingers. She raises a brow at Ned. “Think they’re getting sloppy?”

“Hmm,” Ned hums, tapping the table. “Maybe. Or maybe they just stopped caring.”

“I wanna remind you that it was _after_ gym,” Charles says pointedly. “Pure luck that I caught ‘em, too.”

“Forgot your glasses?” Abe asks.

“Forgot my glasses.”

Abe offers his fist. “Classic.”

 _Bump_. “Saved by the specs.”

“I think it’s time we called in reinforcements,” Sally says seriously, fingers steepled.

Ned squints. “Why do I feel like this is gonna cost me?”

Sally smiles, sweet and _fake as heck._ “Betty came back from Cancun last week, right?”

“Oh, _no_ ,” Ned says, frowning and waving his arms around in front of himself. “ _No_. No! No _way_ I’m dragging my girlfriend into this.”

“It’s for the good of society,” Abe adds simply, tapping away on his phone.

“Besides,” Cindy says, leaning over the table, “this counts as investigative journalism.”

“Says the girl who probably broke a privacy law when she got those stalker photos,” Ned says with rising pitch, scrunching up his face. “ _Nuh-uh_. No way.”

“Too late,” Abe says, a _ding_ from his phone echoing in the room. He turns the device to Ned, grinning innocently. “She’s in.”

“…I wash my hands of this,” Ned pouts, crossing his arms. “You hear me? Hands _—washed_.”

“I think the paper’s running low on the rumor mill,” Flash says, idly taking a selfie. “Something about no one really caring about the rising rate of escapee frogs in bio.”

“I can’t believe you paid attention to that,” Charles blanks.

“Frogs are aight.”

Ned scoffs. “MJ asked you to help, didn’t she?”

“Hey, I’m a _changed man_ —you won’t get _anythin_ ’ outta me,” Flash says, tapping on his phone.

“No posting meeting photos,” Cindy reminds him.

Flash frowns. “But the lighting—”

_Glare._

“ _Fine_ ,” he mumbles, aggravated as he deletes the photo. He shows her his camera roll. “Happy?”

“Thanks, Flash,” she says, nodding in approval. “You really are a half-step better.”

“‘A half-st’— _hey_.”

“Hi,” the entire table responds, most with smirks.

“I hate all of you.”

“Blatant lie,” Sally says, shaking her head. “You tried to get every single one of us to safety when Carnage was running around at our Central Park field trip.”

“Sof-tie! Sof-tie! Sof-tie!” Abe chants, pounding the table with a closed fist.

“ _Volume_ ,” Cindy stage whispers, gesturing to the door. “We don’t even have permission to _be_ here. _I_ don’t wanna explain to Harrington why we’re hanging out in the old dark room and have ancient, highly flammable overhead spotlights hanging like it’s some noir film—do _you_?”

“You could just say we’re starting a cult,” Charles offers, cleaning his glasses.

“I hate _all_ of you,” Flash repeats, softer and mumbling.

“I’m with Charles,” Sally says with a singular, definitive _nod_.

“We’re not telling Harrington we’re starting a cult,” Cindy groans, facepalming.

“ _You’re_ not,” Ned corrects, leaning back in his chair. “If we get caught? _I_ am.”

“Your Catholic parents are gonna _love_ that.”

Ned coughs, plants his chin on the table and brings up his arms to cover his pouting face, murmuring, “Can’t be worse than the homecoming thing…”

Abe frowns contemplatively, rubbing his chin. “He has a point.”

“Forget that—” Flash says, surprisingly the voice of reason, “—what’s the plan for Brant?”

Cindy smiles wryly, brows raising thoughtfully as she sets her chin on her palm. “She had gym with them, too. _And—_ ”

“You guys suck,” Ned mutters, face still covered.

“—she’s got the entire news crew to work with. Seymour could _definitely_ find us something.”

“I wanna repeat, for the record,” Ned says, peeking through his fingers. “Hands: _washed_.”

“We don’t have a record, but duly noted,” Sally says with an affirmative nod. She looks to Flash. “You in?”

Flash leans back, smirking. He pops his collar again, adjusting it to stand haphazardly.

…It would’ve been more suspenseful if he didn’t almost fall off his chair.

 _Cough_. “…I’m in,” he says, hand clamped to the table as his chair teeters, off-balance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WEW whattabuncha rascals, eh?
> 
> thanks btw to for all the kudos and comments! you guys are the sweetest <3


	4. insider information

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> where's the salsa dancing girl emoji when ya need her

“You don’t have to,” Ned says as he walks Betty to the room after class. “It’s—it’s super weird, and I get if you do—”

“Baby, those two have it _bad_ ,” Betty says with a laugh, fixing his collar while they walk. “ _Something_ happened on the Europe trip, but no one talks about it, and it, honestly, is driving me insane.”

“I’m not sure if this counts as investigative journalism.”

“I’m already in, Ned.”

“But _Bets_.”

They stop in front of the door, in the empty hallway, after school and out of mind.

She pats his cheek. “It’s like community service. Besides, you’re Peter’s Guy in the Chair, and I’m MJ’s wingman—we’re just doing our jobs.”

Ned sighs, shoulders sagging. “…Fine. But seriously,” he says, thumb jabbed towards the door, “they’re insane.” Pause. “We? We’re insane. It’s gonna get weird.”

Betty chortles. “Nothing will beat finding out the arachnid thing on a Ferris wheel, trust me.”

He quirks a brow, tilts his head. His eyes widen, more incredulous than anything else. “You would _think_.”

* * *

He is right, she is wrong, and the conspiracy board-esque chart on the rolling corkboard is both impressive and a reminder of just how much free time some of the AcaDec members have.

“This is…” Betty says, pursing her lips as she looks around the dimly-lit room, noting the papers and photos and written notes.

“We know,” Sally says blandly.

“Trust us, _we know_ ,” Charles reiterates.

“Am I going to need therapy after this?” Betty asks, squinting at them all. “Like, full disclosure.”

Abe shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Have a seat, B,” Flash says, nodding his head at the metal folding chair in front of her.

“Not like you’re in charge, _T_ ,” Betty snorts, but takes the seat anyway.

“No one’s in charge, technically,” Cindy says.

 _Hum._ “So.”

“So,” Abe says, adjusting his tie. “You have information?”

“On the Gym Incident?” Sally adds, brow raised in cautious curiosity.

“About that,” Betty starts, hands primly resting on the table. “Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

“Hit us with the bad, chief,” Charles says, hand barely over his mouth.

“Bad: they weren’t holding hands.”

Everyone groans, and some look over at Charles as if he’d just spit on the idea of free higher education.

Betty raises a hand, tilted forward as if to calm them. “But—good: it’s _way_ more romantic.”

Of the select few who had mentally murdered Charles, Abe is the one who speaks first:

“What do you mean?”

Betty leans forward, cheeks high and taut as she tries to restrain herself. “I was in that class. Wilson finally got MJ to try climbing—tangent, that’s a big win and I think Peter made her soft—anyway, the climbing,” she says, gesticulating like a true storyteller. “MJ got pretty far, honestly, but she slipped a bit when she looked down.”

Sally facepalms. “She’s scared of heights.”

Betty nods. “Exactly. And that was near the end of class, so she was last one off. I stayed back with Peter to check on her, obvi, but then he started checking on her hands for rope burn and I just…snuck out.” She shrugs, smiling wide now. “ _Wilson_ didn’t even wanna bother them. It was like, high-key cinematic.”

A _whistle_ fills the room, sourced from none other than Abraham, Keeper of Bells. “If they don’t get married, I will declare that love is dead,” he says.

“Listen, Betty,” Charles says, leaning over. His Serious Face is on—furrowed brows and a sad attempt at a frown. “We need a favor.”

“I’m not lending you Seymour for recording purposes,” Betty says.

“Aw— _ow_ ,” he says, frowning at Sally, “…I mean— _ahem—_ close, but no cigar.”

Betty squints. “…You realize how bad that sounds, right?”

Ned puts a hand on her arm. “Baby. Logic doesn’t work here anymore.”

“We’ve done too much,” Sally says ominously, eyes staring straight ahead.

“Yeah, this isn’t making me want to say yes…” Betty says, treading carefully, “…but I’m willing to listen.”

Charles clears his throat. “Right. So…” Pause and another, as he quirks a brow and scans the room.

(For effect.)

(Because he does that.)

“…we’re gonna need a party,” he explains, fingers steepling. “Preferably a house one. Not _too_ big—we’re not trying to mix too many social classes here.”

“But we need the party atmosphere,” Cindy adds. “Something pretty chill, but something you’ll wanna dress up for.”

“I could definitely set up a party,” Betty says with a smile, sitting prim and proper.

“Abe, I’m never forgiving you for this,” Ned mutters, head in his hands.

“Charles said it!” Abe says, laughing.

Ned peaks through his fingers to _glare_.

“I mean, I did, bro,” Charles grins.

“AcaDec and the news crew, then?” Betty says, back to the point. She pulls out a small notepad and pen. _Click_. “What are we thinking? Thirty, forty tops?”

“We could make it a surprise party for MJ,” Sally suggests, looking around the table. “For that art show she got into last week.”

“Twenty-five, then,” Betty says, scribbling the note down. “But,” she pauses, looking up, “you know MJ will dress whatever way she wants to, right?”

“We’re trying to get _Peter_ back in nice clothes,” Sally, Abe, and Flash say in unison—apologetic, monotonous, and exasperated, in that order.

“He can’t dress,” Flash continues.

“Look who’s talking, Popped-Collar Polo Shirt,” Cindy says, raising a brow.

“It’s a classic!”

“For _something_ ,” Abe snickers.

“They’re trying to recreate the opera show,” Ned says, a hand up to keep the others from interrupting. “But like, chiller, and with something in it for them.”

“Hey!” Charles says, throwing a piece of popcorn at him. “That was need-to-know!”

Ned stares at him, bored. “She’s my girlfriend. And the host. She needs to know.”

“We pooled cash to pay you back,” Cindy says, sliding an envelope towards Betty.

“This is extremely sketchy,” Betty says. She eyes down the others briefly, but takes the envelope, sliding it off the edge of the table and down to her lap.

“Practice for when you have to turn down bribes when you’re a bigshot reporter,” Sally says.

“…But I took it.”

“Technically, not a bribe.”

Betty tilts her head, scrunching up half her face. “…Sure, okay. I’m too into this idea to question it.”

Ned squints at her.

“I haven’t had a party in months, baby,” she says, patting his face. “Can’t have the neighbors thinking we went broke.”

“…I know you’re joking, but I think that’s actually true,” Ned says.

“So we’re settled?” Abe asks, hands clasped together on the table.

“Prep to dance,” Betty says smoothly, smirking. She gets up, the envelope now slipped into her skirt pocket. “Us Brants like our music.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no update next week and possibly the week after for this and the NYE fic! going on vacay and have a final hell week for school when i get back @_@
> 
> im on twitter and tumblr as doofwrites in case ya wanna yellll
> 
> God bless you guys!


	5. flipside

“Red Leader, do you copy? Over.”

“I’m right beside you,” Sally frowns, turning to the boy on her right.

Charles’ shoulders sag, the device in his hand dropping low. “But the walkie-talkies—”

“And why am I Red Leader, anyway?”

Charles gestures to her blouse. “Red.” He moves his hand up to her head and down to her toes. “Leader.” _Shrug_. “Red Leader.”

“…Kiss up,” Sally says, pursing her lips.

“One of my many great qualities.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Abe says, sneaking up behind them, juice in hand. He passes the glass to Sally. “Order up.”

“Thanks.” _Sip_. “Anything?”

“They were talking on the couch, but we lost them after the third song,” Abe says, frowning. “Peter looked sick.”

“Betty?”

“She’s looking for them.”

“And you say you’re not a Red Leader,” Charles _hmph_ s. “Classic Red Leader move, Sal.”

“Come off it, weirdo,” Sally says, rolling her eyes.

“Gosh, why look for MJ when she already lives through you?” Charles says with an exaggerated gasp.

Cindy pops her head between them before Sally can strangle Charles. “Anyone see Ned?”

“He’s checking upstairs,” Abe says.

“What _is_ upstairs?” Sally asks, frowning as she looks up. “Heard Betty saying something about a reno?”

“The roof,” Cindy says, nodding knowingly. “I heard it’s tricked out.”

“Wasn’t it always?”

“Yeah, but _now_ …”

“Isn’t MJ scared of heights?” Abe asks, scrunching up half his face. “Why check up there?”

“Because that’s where the bedrooms are and I heard from Suzie and Carlos that Betty’s older brother has this, like, _massive_ Lego installation in his room, _and he’s away at college_ ,” Charles says, in his usual conspirator way, and _that’s_ when they start ignoring him for the night.

* * *

(“I’ll help Cindy look,” Sally says.

“I’ll pretend to help Cindy look,” Abe says, shaking his head at Charles in disappointment.

Charles whines.)

* * *

(Really, they should've checked the least obvious place.)

 

* * *

Betty finds them outside, sitting on the front steps of her house, too close together and too far from everyone else.

She steps lightly.

“You guys know the party’s _inside_ the house, right?” she asks, head tilted in innocent curiosity. The sugar-saturated drink in her hand sloshes from her abrupt stop, the sound echoing in Peter’s ears.

“Peter needed some air,” MJ says, turning to her and keeping her volume low. She has a hand on Peter’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Your sound system is a little _too_ excellent.”

Peter’s hunched over on the step, rubbing his ears with his palms. _Tch_ , as he covers his face and stretches his jaw, the soft sound of air pockets releasing bringing comfort. “I don’t know what frequency Flash is using, but it _sucks_.”

_Curse_ , as Betty sneaks a glance behind her, checking for passerby. “I’m sorry, Pete, I totally forgot. You want me to grab you some earplugs?” she asks, apologetic as she steps forward. “I’d tone it down, but that’s—”

“Kinda sus, yeah,” MJ nods, half-smiling. She leans down, hair spilling forward as she attempts to catch Peter’s eye. “How ‘bout it?” she whispers, rubbing circles on his shoulder with her thumb.

_Groan._ “Worth a shot.”

“I hope they work,” Betty says, wincing. “Do you want me to get Ned, too?”

MJ ducks lower, closer to Peter’s face. “Want Ned?”

A wince and another muffled, cut-off groan as Peter nods stiffly.

“I’ll be right back,” Betty says gently, glancing at MJ. “Text if you think of anything else he might need, okay?”

MJ nods, smiling tightly. “Thanks, Bets.”

Betty throws up an _OK_ sign, and her drink sloshes along as she makes her way back inside.

* * *

Ned brings Peter home to a waiting, concerned May.

“He’s doing better,” Ned says quietly, handing off the hero to his aunt. “MJ got him to eat something and I found his backup earplugs in my car.”

“Aw, sweetie,” May coos, hugging Peter tightly and kissing the side of his forehead as he slumps into the hug. “It’s okay now, hun. I did the laundry so you can sleep with the mask on tonight, if you want.”

Peter nods into her shoulder, hugging her tighter.

“Night-night, Pete,” Ned says with a half-smile, patting his friend on the back. “Get some rest, dude.”

“Thank you, Ned,” May smiles, and Peter silently waves back as the two walk into the building.

Ned gives her a salute and walks backwards to his car, phone open to a group chat.

 

**dj khaleeds**

_ay mj ya boyfren’s home_

**o captain my captain**

_not my boyfriend_

**BETTY BOO <3**

_Not YET_

**o captain my captain**

_Betty…_

**BETTY BOO <3**

_Yes?_

**o captain my captain**

_youre on thin ice_

**BETTY BOO <3**

_I love you too!_

* * *

And, of course, in the morning hours, Peter says:

 

**THWIPTHWIP**

_Did u guys forget im in this chat_

**dj khaleeds**

_nope!!!_

**BETTY BOO <3**

_No_

**o captain my captain**

_if only_

**Author's Note:**

> expect short chaps bc this is a snip-snappy fic!! (it just...didnt flow as well on one file haha)
> 
> yell on [tumblr](https://doofwrites.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/doofwrites) if ya want <3
> 
> comments/kudos appreciated as always :D
> 
> God bless fam!! AND DON'T SPOIL ENDGAME


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